


Regret Tastes Like Tea

by silver-kin (06seconds_left)



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:51:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06seconds_left/pseuds/silver-kin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life and death. In the end, it all comes down to the choices we make and the outcomes we have to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret Tastes Like Tea

Everyone made mistakes. Life was full with options, forcing its travelers to choose from what was offered. Sometimes the 'right' and 'wrong' choice was clearly distinguished; sometimes the difference was blurred. A person had no way of knowing exactly which choice to make, not when they came to the moment of deciding which path to trudge down. The best they could do was listen to their heart, take note of the circumstances and choose.

As a Kunoichi of Konoha, she was no exception. During missions, they were given orders but the method in which they were carried out depended solely on the team leader. He had to weight the risks and dangers of everything around him and select the best action to be taken. The people under him were to accept his decision and proceed accordingly. Sometimes all went well. Sometimes it didn't. It was the way of things.

All the same, Sakura was fine choosing. She didn't mind having to make choices, didn't mind having to examine each and every part of an option and - if time was a limited luxury - quickly selecting one.

What did bother her was that after you choose, there would be consequences. When something was done, there was no way of taking back the action; once you walk down a path, there was no turning back. Regardless of how unpleasant the eventual outcome was, all a person could do was live with it.

Life consisted of countless roads, and the act of choosing and living with your decision.

And sometimes, the decision of others as well.

\---

By the time she got to him, his blood had already made a pool around him. His clothes were stained red and his chest moved up and down weakly, like even breathing was difficult. Terrified that she might have been too late, she immediately sat down next to him and began working on his wounds, starting with the ones that looked poisoned.

Five minutes later, Genma opened his eyes.

At first, he appeared dazed, like an infant making his acquaintance with the bright new world for the first time. Then, he blinked a few times and managed to focus on her. He tried to speak and ended up coughing blood, so Sakura spared a moment to say, "Don't try to talk."

He didn't make another attempt after that, allowing her to focus entirely on repairing the torn insides. Silence reigned as she concentrated on the task at hand; in her mind, she imagined taking out all the damaged tissues and healing them, returning them to their original condition. _Heal,_ she thought, _be whole again._

It took time and effort, but at long last, Sakura removed her hands from his side, a gesture meant to announce she had finished, had done as much as she could do for him. Genma pulled himself upwards so that he was in a more comfortable position, leaning against the tree behind him.

Sakura moved back a little, giving him space. At the slight movement, Genma glanced at her briefly before turning to scrutinize his healed wound. One finger prodded the previously damaged skin almost nonchalantly, so akin to indifference that Sakura felt obliged to say, "Don't touch it. You'll reopen the wound."

The man concerned lifted one eyebrow, arched his gaze towards her. "Oh? Didn't you heal it?"

"I did, but your regenerated skin is still fragile. Irritate it like that, senpai, and you'll start bleeding again." She moved back a distance more before settling down into a comfortable sitting position, facing the jounin.

When she made no move to get up, Genma questioned her, "You're not going to look around?"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders, hugging her legs to her chest. "You aren't in any condition to move yet. Plus you probably have no chakra left. So I should stay with you, in case there are still enemies around."

"What if there are other people who need healing?" he asked.

"There are other medic-nins about," she replied, thinking of the others that had left Konoha with her. "They'll be able to help them, if needed. It's all right for me to stay here."

Genma was silent. Then he said, "I suppose so. I don't think they'll find anyone to heal anyway, so no harm done."

She raised an eyebrow, enquiring. "What do you mean? Wasn't there anyone else with you?"

He coughed a little, a harsh dry sound in his throat before answering her with a question of his own. "Can't you smell it?"

Sakura wasn't sure he knew what he meant. "Smell what?"

In response, he smiled at her, a listless expression as telltale signs of a smirk appeared on his exhausted face briefly before disappearing. Something in the look caught her eye, striking her as slightly familiar - the way the corners of his mouth seemed torn between turning up and down. "Can't you smell it?" he repeated, eyelids drooping shut slowly as his chest steadied, breath coming out at a gradually slower pace. "The smell of death."

All around her, the winds billowed gentle whispers, bending elegantly when needed to avoid tree trunks and branches. The leaves rustled softly, shaking in the breeze as Sakura watched them, wary of hidden enemies in the face of a wounded fellow shinobi for company. The silence brought paranoia with it, making her jumpy as she startled at every sound in her trained ears. She bit her lip, forcing herself to calm down, to get a grip.

Even so, it was still a relief when her companions arrived, carrying limp bodies with them as they bluntly reported no other breathing victims. Later, back in the safety of high, guarded walls and bustling streets - later, when Sakura exited the hospital to search for a belated lunch, she remembered Genma's words in her mind and sees his face in her bowl of niku soba.

She worried about it all day, running his sentences over and over again in her mind. Something about the words disturbed her but try as she might, she simply couldn't place what the invisible problem really was. Perhaps it wasn't what he had said, rather the way he had said it. Or maybe it wasn't that either but something else entirely. The tone of his voice, the familiar expression on his face and abyss in his eyes; it could be any of those and yet, she couldn't figure out which one it was.

Looking one last time at her reflection in the mirror, she saw green eyes staring back at her with quite agitation. Then, she slipped under the covers of her bed, waiting for sleep to come.

\---

Ippyaku-jiu-go: that's what the receptionist had told her, smiling kindly when she looked up briefly from the papers at hand. Sakura had thanked the lady and walked away, climbing stairs after stairs as she ascended upwards. The air reeked of medicine, chemicals applied to kunai slashes, blade wounds, fire jutsu burns and anesthetics for those in need of more serious treatments. It irritated her nose, reminding her that she was still unused to it despite having done endless studies on them for months.

Turning a corner, she sidestepped an incoming group of workers, automatic reflexes coming into action as she avoided collision with some very distressed people and one dying kunoichi. She glanced over her shoulder at their retreating figures and continued on, casting looks sideways as she looked for her intended destination.

Finally, she found it. Room 115. Her head throbbed with a slight headache and she rubbed a hand to it, forcing it to recede mentally. Then, taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and turned the doorknob.

Inside, Genma lay asleep on the bed, white sheets that had been drawn up to his neck rising and falling steadily with his chest. The cuts on his face had been cleaned; some were covered with peach-colored plasters whilst the lesser ones were left open to the air.

Sakura walked towards an empty chair near the bed, taking in the room. There was a small vase on the table, empty of contents. Soft violet curtains hung down from the windows, motionless in the windless air. From outside, the morning sunlight trickled in, shining gentle rays onto the wooden floor and warming the entire room.

Next to her, the sleeping man stirred. Sakura immediately returned her attention to the bed, watching eyes fly open and looking at her in alarm before he registered what he was seeing. Then, he blinked a few times, as if to confirm what he was seeing. At long last, Genma arched an eyebrow in question. "Well look who's here."

The sentence made her realize that she had no clue as to why she was there first thing in the morning, sitting in that chair in the jounin's temporary room. Suddenly aware of her situation, she flustered her next words and ended up repeatedly opening and closing her mouth over and over without making a sound. Then, she shut her mouth one final time, biting her lip and wincing.

If Genma noticed, he pretended otherwise. Not commenting on her lack of reply, he tried again. "What are you doing here?"

This time, she swallowed once to calm her thoughts down before opening her mouth to respond. "I just wanted to check on you. To make sure you're okay."

"Isn't that nice of you," he murmured, sweeping the room with his eyes before settling back on her.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"Relatively, yes."

"Any headaches, or feeling tired? Do you feel like throwing up or anything?"

"Nope," he answered shortly. Then, "Nothing of that sort. Don't worry. Now, what did you _really_come here for?"

Here, Sakura hesitated, unsure of what to do next. In all honesty, the only thing she knew was that she had the intense need to speak with the jounin, though she could barely fathom the subject of the conversation. All she could think about was the look on Genma's face before he passed out yesterday. Brown eyes danced in her thoughts; she latched onto that, using that as an opening in hopes that it'll lead her to a better topic. "What did you mean about the smell of death yesterday?"

The words caught Genma off-guard; the older man stared at her with a surprised expression for several seconds before recovering enough to wipe it off. "What about it?" he asked, faking nonchalantly.

"Well, it's just…" _You looked so sad,_ she wanted to say but instead went with, "You seemed to mean something else."

He didn't answer immediately, leaving Sakura to wait in anxious silence for a response. Finally, he said, "What do you think about death?"

Sakura blinked, digesting the offered sentence.

Genma continued without waiting for her to respond. "To me, it's an unknown entity. It'll come to you anytime it wants, whether you're ready for it or not. There's no expecting it until it stands in front of you."

"Oh," she said, for lack of anything better.

"It's funny. We train all our lives to avoid losing to it, but when death comes to take you away, there's nothing you can do about it. No fighting it for lost life."

"But there's more to death than that," she protested, mind jerking into function again. In front of her, Genma turned his head to the side to look at her. "I don't really know how it feels like to lose someone you love. I didn't really know my grandmother all that well, and my grandfather died before I was born. Still, I know that you feel sad about it."

Genma listened, eyes seemingly focused on her. "But?"

"But in another way," she continued, "death makes you appreciate the options life gives you. It makes you rethink your actions before you do them because you want to be sure you don't pick the wrong choice and do the wrong thing. In a way, death makes you think about the things you do, or are about to do. See?"

He didn't say anything for a while Then, he made a 'hmm' sound in his throat, though whether he was agreeing with her or not, she couldn't tell. At that moment, a nurse entered, carrying a tray with medical supplies in her arms. Casting one last look at the jounin lying in bed, Sakura reluctantly excused herself and left. She made for the Hokage's office and reported in. Tsunade-sama gave her a verbal list of things to be done, checking off potential search materials and references before announcing her deadline by sunset.

By the end of the day, Sakura returned home in time for dinner. She ate silently with her parents, listening absently to their light talk at the table. After that, she went up to her room, took a cold shower and collapsed on her bed.

The visit, she realized, had done nothing to ease the unease in her mind.

\---

She saw Genma again the next day, leaving early in the morning after a brief breakfast; she went to the hospital again the next day, and the day after, and the day after and oddly enough, Genma didn't seem to mind her visits. Sometimes, she dropped by after finishing up with her mentor, walking the paths in town under orange skies. Sometimes, during lunch break.

When she remembers to, she brings him flowers for the vase on the bedside table.

With each day, she felt she understood the jounin a little better. The casual way he talked about things, the change of tone when he reached a serious subject. After the first day of her visit, he never brought up the subject of death again and, much as she'd like to, she didn't say anything about it either. Nevertheless, it was alright with her; just another part of life's eternal paths.

Some things are debated daily, others are said once in an acquaintance's lifetime. That was the way things were and always will be.

One day, Genma mentioned something about unorganized working desks, lemon-tainted tea and the name Hayate in the same sentence.

The reference was so slight and subtle that the older man had already moved on to complaining about the thirteen-day bed confinement before she noticed it.

The next time it happened, she was ready for it. The minute he finished his opinion about the negative effects of irregular work hours on ill people, she blurted out her own question, loud and rushed. "Were you and Hayate-senpai close?"

In response, Genma stared blankly at her, as if caught unaware. Sakura held her breath in hopes of an answer, not sure if the jounin would be willing to talk about the deceased man. For a long time, he remained silent, staring at her with expressionless eyes. Finally, just as she was about to give up, he spoke. "We partnered for missions every now and then."

Sakura felt her heart leap in joy at having gotten him to respond. She opened her mouth, ready to enquire more about their friendship as her mind bubbled in excitement. Before she could, he cut her off, continuing with a note of finality in his voice. "That's it. I didn't know him all that well."

And that was all she got out of him for that day.

One morning - on her way to the hospital after a brief stop to the Yamanaka's shop - she realized that she enjoyed talking with Genma. There was something about being in the other's presence that calmed her, enabling her to forget the unease that had been stirring restlessly in her chest for the past few months.

Over the next few days, Sakura managed to extricate detached pieces of information from the older man. Despite the initial reluctance when it came to topics regarding the late jounin, Genma ended up telling her a little about him with each passing day. With each share tidbit, Sakura drew a picture of them in her mind; acquaintances, perhaps friends, even.

The things Genma talked about varied, ranging from food to mission to life outside work; lunch breaks and the shops the entire group would eat at, the best place to get takoyaki from and how the coffee maker in the office room was everyone's best friend, save for Hayate.

"That was one of the weird things about him," he told her one day. "For some strange reason he never told me, he rarely drank anything other than tea. Even when we ate out in the evening and everyone else was ordering sake, he would always have tea. We'd try to persuade him but he refused every time, smiling and saying, 'No, but thank you. Just some lemon tea, please. With ice.'"

\---

On the last day of his stay in the hospital, Sakura opened the door to find Genma leaning against the wall by the window. At her entrance, the jounin turned to face her and lifted a hand in greeting. She heard the door shut softly and said, "You're feeling better?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I can walk just fine. There's no need to stay here any longer."

Sakura considered his leaving and wondered how it would feel like to go back to her normal routine, the one that didn't involve detours to make visits. Strangely enough - or maybe it wasn't really that strange after all - she realized that she didn't want to stop coming by, didn't want to stop seeing the older man and for a few moments, forget the restlessness in her self.

Not that she had any right to feel that way. "Well, at least you can take missions again."

"Mm…" he said, moving to sit on the bed.

Silence fell. She sat herself on a nearby chair, hands on her lap as she tried to think of something else to say. She thought about all the conversations they had for the past two weeks, the few things that she had learned about him. She remembered the events that had led to her being here, starting from being briefed about the mission and finding him alone under a tree.

Lastly, Sakura remembered being strangely drawn to the jounin's expression then. She hadn't asked him about it since the first day of her visits, and was still bothered by it.

She sighed; it was now or never.

"Senpai," she started, glanced up to make sure he was listening. "Have you ever wished that you could change the past?"

He looked at her, sitting completely still. Then, he cleared his throat. "Why?"

"It's just, on that day…the look on your face made me think," she hesitated, afraid of crossing the easy line of tolerance they had fallen into, "that you might have done something you regret."

Again, Genma didn't respond immediately. His gaze never shifted, remaining fixed on her with such intensity that Sakura wanted to look away elsewhere, anywhere but into them. The atmosphere had turned cold, still and heavy; it sent a shiver down her spine and she almost jumped at it. Instead, she steeled her thoughts and forced herself to meet his eyes. At long last, Sakura heard him speak. "I never told him," he said, so softly that she almost missed it.

Sakura watched him closely as he spoke, hearing the soft remorse in his voice. She noticed the way his eyes dimmed, altering into something more quiet.

"I guess," he went on, "that's my biggest regret. I never said anything. To him, we were probably just close friends."

"Senpai-" she started, but he cut her off.

"But there's nothing I can do about it now. He's _dead,_" he said, saying the last word with sharp jerk, lips set in a grim line. "and there's _nothing I can do about it._"

Sakura closed her mouth, swallowing what she was about to say. "I'm sorry," she said, voicing it gently.

He shook his head roughly, causing slightly long hair to swish from side to side at the quick movements. Then, he let out a long sigh, releasing his breath. His shoulders relaxed, loosing its tension; he closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them to look at her, she saw sadness in his dark, brown eyes. "People make mistakes," he told her. "People die. That's life. What we're suppose to do," and here, he finally raised his eyes to meet her gaze, holding it, "is move on."

\---

Sakura never forgot their conversations.

Three years later, when she finally saw Sasuke again-her chest tightened, her body froze and everything she had wanted to say collected in her throat, and withered-she could still hear them in her mind, word for word.

And whenever she held a warm cup of tea in her hands, she thought of Genma and Hayate.


End file.
